She blasted a hole in the floor and dropped down.

The big guy was on the floor below, in the midst of trying to scrabble up to the floor above. He slipped, fell, and spotted her.

Her power flared involuntarily, costing her a moment. She tried to make it look intentional by blasting the nearest wall, as if it was a prelude to the full maneuver.

The big guy barreled toward her, and she had to find traction amid dust before jumping into the hole she’d just made. Another hole in the floor made it hard for him to follow her.

Walls and doors were nothing. They were a gesture away from being an opening. She used that opening, navigating the floor, while the big guy gave chase. Somewhere along the line, he stopped running after her.

She cleared the floor, found nothing, and dropped down.

On this floor, she could smell the drugs. She followed the smell and found a conference room turned to nefarious purpose. Packaging, plastic bags, and mounds of green leaves were set out.

She didn’t have to go far to find the office with some of the money. She was careful with her hands as she picked up a stack of bills.

Something detonated just to the left of her. A cloud of noxious green gas surrounded her, and she stumbled away.

“That’s not yours.”

Rotten Apple.

Damsel smiled, walking around the room to avoid the expanding cloud of gas.

“This was a decent headquarters,” Rotten Apple said. A green sphere appeared in her hand, then levitated above it. “Now look at it.”

The ceiling in the hallway sagged in tatters. There were holes in quite a few walls, large enough for a person to walk through. The gas was thinning out at its periphery, giving the room a general green haze.

A second orb appeared, joining the first one that still orbited Rotten Apple’s hand. The costumed woman gripped it, drawing her arm back to throw.

Damsel brought her arm around, pointing at the money. “Do anything and I obliterate it.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t want me to do it either. But I will if I think it weakens your group.”

Rotten Apple’s eyes narrowed.

“Surr—” Damsel started, before being interrupted with coughing. The gas.

“Surrender,” she said, succeeding on the second attempt at speaking. “Believe me, you don’t want me to keep going. You might have an army, but they have to get here first, and they’ll need to watch their footing. I can bring this whole building down, and I’m betting I can be the one that survives if we’re both inside when I do it.”

“Sure,” Rotten Apple said. She looked at the money. She flicked the ball and it flew through a hole in the wall to explode in another room. “There. I’m unarmed.”

“Hands up,” Damsel said.